


The Art of a Repose

by heoneyology



Category: Monsta X (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, Angst and Feels, Fantasy, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Other, Romance, autumn manifested!Kihyun
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-12
Updated: 2019-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27523363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heoneyology/pseuds/heoneyology
Summary: There is a natural order to the way the world works. As each season passes, a new one begins; and the previous season must give their life to the new one. As repetitive and expected as it may be, this cycle isn’t easy—especially when you’re irrevocably in love with Autumn, Yoo Kihyun.
Relationships: Yoo Kihyun/Reader, Yoo Kihyun/You
Kudos: 3





	The Art of a Repose

Sometimes, it’s quite beautiful to let things go. Each year, the trees remind you of that sentiment. How easily the tree let go of their leaves, ready to rid themselves of the old worries; lifeless baggage that clings to their branches —more than willing to begin anew. Because each year, even as the leaves fall and the trees fall into a peaceful slumber, they again will rise with a new resolve and a new take on life. A new start. A ghost of change lingering in the air.

Yet it’s a bittersweet feeling, though beautiful, to watch the leaves twirl through the air before settling on the ground. To watch them dance in endless spins with their partner, the breeze. It’s a bittersweet feeling knowing that, despite something  _ new _ being on the other side, there’s a metaphorical end. With each passing day, the crisp air reminds you of how close he lingers.

It starts off small. A cool chill in the air in the mornings, but warm afternoons and the sun dancing along your skin with such a warmth that your mind feels fuzzy and euphoric. And then, nights that dip down into chilly temperatures that urge you to curl up with a blanket and seek warmth by the fire. It grows, slowly. You’ll wake up and realize that the scent in the air smells of cider and spices, and rather than the warmth dancing along your skin, it seeps into your entire being and soul and fills you with an inexplicable feeling of radiance. When it reaches its peak, you’ll know he’s almost here—you’ll wake up and every morning will be chilly, and the days will be filled with a brisk autumn wind that’s filled with a music all its own, twirling about the leaves and urging them to move on.

Today is one of those days. You smile softly, watching the leaves dance about in front of you, watching friends and family move about the park painted with all different shades on the spectrum of russet, smiling and laughing and engaging in different activities and moving about their day normally.

_ Your days are numbered.  _ On your face, your smile falters. The bittersweet feeling that had been lingering for days now, heavy, weighs itself down a little further.

Letting a sigh escape, you push yourself to your feet and turn away from the park bench—ready to head home.

An overly loud rustling of leaves, the sound practically in your ears, causes you to look up in time just before you crash into someone. Rather, not  _ someone _ —but  _ him _ —materialized right in front of you. You gasp, stumbling backwards.

Without missing a beat, he reaches out and snatches hold of your arm, pulling your weight back towards him to balance out your near fall. For a moment, there’s a shared silence between the two of you, each of you just staring. Surprise is written all over your face, not having expected him  _ here _ , in front of you, so soon. In comparison, he has a small smile on his face; it’s not a deep enough smile, but you swear you can barely make out the outline of the tiny dimple that rests on his cheek. His brown eyes are warm, reflective of the season.

“Kihyun,” you breath out, finally, as though his name had been stuck in your throat.

His smile broadens a little. “Waiting for me?” He asks, and when you’re silent and don’t answer, he allows a hum to sound from the back of his throat, giving his head a very small shake. “Of course not. That would be too easy.”

You purse your lips, hating how right he is. It’s a small game, between the two of you; that chase to catch up with the inevitable concept of  _ time. _ As much as you love him, you hate what has to be given up. As much as you look forward to this moment every year—the sight of his appearance just moments before, causing your heart to lurch in your chest, and the way his warm brown eyes are etched into your memories. Memories you cling to even when you are no longer physically here. Memories you cling to with such determination that they’re the first things you wake up to when your time comes again.

As much as you love this moment, you hate it;  _ bittersweet. _

But, there’s a natural order to things.

Summer must end, and autumn must begin. The seasons must go through their natural rotation. You each must sacrifice yourselves.

While you each sacrifice your physical form every year, you’ve refused to sacrifice your memories or your love for Kihyun. But as much as you love him, you find yourself running from him every year. It’s a repetitive, expected cycle. Yet you fear it each time.

Kihyun, sensing your turmoil, lets out a soft sigh. He finally lets go of your arm, only to lower his hand to claim yours, linking fingers. “Walk with me.”

And so, you do. Kihyun gives your hand a gentle squeeze as he leads you on, walking the cobblestone path underfoot at an aimless and leisurely pace. Fallen leaves crunch beneath your feet, and the earthy smell of the season and the laughter of the people around you and the sound of the wind through the drying leaves fills your senses. The warmth of Kihyun’s hand flows through you, his grasp firm yet gentle; and most of all, comforting. The shades of the trees that surround you cast a warm hue over the world, and Kihyun almost looks like he’s glowing.

“Wait just a moment,” Kihyun’s voice suddenly cuts through the serene peace that’s fallen upon your mind, an emptiness you welcome in his comforting presence. You blink, aware of him pulling his hand out of your grasp, and watch his retreating back.

He moves just a few feet away to a vendor that’s taken up camp in the park. Kihyun speaks with the elderly couple behind the cart. You can’t hear the conversation, but from the body language between each of them you can tell Kihyun is at ease—in his natural element; and you can tell the couple enjoys his friendly chit-chat.

When he returns to your side, he has two paper cones, one in each hand—one filled to the brim with roasted cinnamon-coated almonds, and the other with kettle corn. He holds them out for your viewing, and you claim the cone of kettle corn.

Immediately, with a hand free, Kihyun picks out a few almonds and pops them into his mouth, licking at any leftover cinnamon clinging to his fingertips.

“You didn’t make it easy to find you this year.”

You scoff, snacking on a few pieces of kettle corn. “I didn’t want to be found.”

“That’s a lie, and you know it.”

“What if it isn’t, though?” You mumble, fingers idly dancing over pieces of kettle corn, as if deciding which to choose. You bite down on your lower lip, staring a little too hard at the snack in your hands.

You loved him too much.  _ There’s a natural order to things, _ you remind yourself. Of course, that didn’t make it hurt any less, having to leave every year. Having to wait so long to see him. 

_ Wondering if you’d lose every last trace of him, and not remember anything when waking up the following season... _

With a sigh, Kihyun reaches forward with a free hand and tilts your chin up gently, tilting your head and gaze up to look at him. “I know somewhere, deep down, it  _ is _ the truth. But just as much as it’s a truth, it’s a lie. You don’t want to actually lose any of this.”

Of course, he’s right. He’s always right. The memories are what keep you going, despite that ever-present fear that never quite fads. Maybe there will come a time when you wake up with no recollection of any of him, any of your feelings for him. But, for now, the fact that you haven’t yet—and that maybe, as much as you will, you won’t—keeps you going.

Kihyun catches you by surprise when he leans forward, pressing a soft kiss against your forehead. “Let’s go home,” he murmurs, lips brushing against your skin softly.

You nod, though you can’t help but be hyper aware of the tingling chill his kiss leaves lingering against your forehead, working itself beneath your skin like an echo.  _ A warning. _

  
  
  


* * *

  
  
  


A week. That’s all you’re given with him. You don’t realize the time counting down, since the first few days with him are beyond perfect.

After the park, the two of you head home to the small condo, tucked away in a cute little neighborhood, that you’d bought years ago, maybe even longer. When your time is up and his takes over, Kihyun is the one who occupies the condo. It’s filled with various little trinkets and memories of the two of you—proof of your time together, proof of the memories and proof that you two do exist at the same time, even if for a brief moment. For the rest of the year, it’s tended by a property manager.

The evening progresses fairly normally, the two of you sharing an easy delivery dinner and catching up with one another. Kihyun listens, attentive as ever, his hand reaching out absentmindedly to take hold of yours and squeeze. As you speak, he laces and unlaces your fingers through each other’s; fingertips idly dancing over the back of your hand. Anything to keep the two of you close to each other, to  _ prove _ you’re still here.

You’re always lonely throughout the entirety of your season—and if not lonely, then anxiety starts to set in towards the end of your season, as you worry over the same things each and every year.  _ When will he come? Will he remember me? Does he still love me? _ This year, by far, had been the worst so far; but it’s easy to forget, wrapped in Kihyun’s arms and buried under the soft duvet, his breathing a soothing lullaby as he pulls you back closer against his chest.

When you wake up the next morning, you think it’s the best sleep you’ve had in ages. Sunlight filters softly through the sheer curtains of the bedroom, and you roll over to face Kihyun in bed, immediately snuggling closer to him, burying your face against his chest. Sleepily, he lets out a small noise from the back of his throat, hugging you tighter against him.

“Morning,” he murmurs groggily, pulling away enough for you to lift your head and stare up at him. You smile, and he meets you halfway to place a gentle peck upon your lips.  _ This time, the chill isn’t there. _

“Good morning.”

“What should we do today?”

“Let’s stay like this,” you murmur, burying your face into his neck.  _ Forever, _ you want to add.

Kihyun reaches a hand up to pet your head, fingers gently running through the strands of your hair. “That sounds nice to me.”

You aren’t human, you have no human responsibilities. And so, the day is spent in bed with Kihyun all day. You bask in each other’s warmth, comforted just by each other’s presence. Kihyun’s fingertips dance along exposed skin idly as you cuddle, and every now and again a burst of energy will overtake him and you’ll find yourself giggling under the duvet as he attacks you—peppering you with kisses and adorning your body with the softest love to exist.

Each morning in the background, the news on the television echoes,  _ “This is the warmest autumn we’ve had in years. Temperatures have currently risen and are…” _ and it makes you happy, deep down. You can’t quite explain why, though you know it’s his presence, filling you. It causes the physical changes in the world and within you—reverting some of the effects of autumn.

Outside, the weather is warm and sunny. Leaves still idly fall to the ground, the verge of change on the horizon. Trees who have yet to change color begin to shift. By natural instinct, animals still collect their food and stock up for the winter; you watch the squirrels scurry about yours and your neighbors’ yards, working furiously. People still bundle up in the early mornings, when the chill is the coldest, but shed their heavier clothing by midday. The autumn breeze that had lingered throughout the day, strikingly cold against any exposed skin, has subsided in intensity. Frost no longer dusts the yards and cars of the neighborhoods each morning.

Inside, your hearts are aglow with a fondness for each other. There are both soft and fleeting moments, and sensual and intimate moments, that pass between the two of you. They equally fill you up, filling the empty void that had hollowed out your heart over the brim; the empty spaces of worry you’d have are no longer gouged out,  _ empty. _ It’s to the point where you don’t even remember why you had pushed off the natural order of things for so long—pushed off his arrival and seeing him for so long.

Of course, it’s not promised to last. This fact doesn’t hit you until the very last day.

When you open the door to head out for the day with Kihyun, you inevitably pause at the threshold. Despite being bundled up because it’s so early, you realize that these are not layers you’ll be able to shed as the day wears on and becomes increasingly warmer.  _ It’s cold. _ The chill is biting and deep, and frost is littered across the yards around the neighborhood. In contrast to yesterday, the temperature drop is extreme and sudden.

“Come on,” Kihyun murmurs from behind you. His voice is thick with an unspoken emotion. Gently, he pushes at the small of your back, urging you over the threshold and out into the harsh reality.

_ There’s a natural order, _ you remind yourself. While everything until now may have revered  _ some _ of the effects of Kihyun’s presence, mingling with your own, it was always only temporary. These emotions causing a physical change in the world around you were only ever holding off the inevitable—the wall of a dam holding back the floodgates.

Considering it’s your own fault that the time with Kihyun had been botched, you can’t help but feel bittersweet, wistful—a heavy knot forms in the pit of your stomach, a sickly feeling. Due to the circumstances, you suppose it’s more than you could have possibly asked for.  _ If I hadn’t been stupidly stubborn, we would have had more time together… _

As you continue down the path from your home, Kihyun falls into step beside you and links his fingers with yours. You can’t really say you feel much warmth from his hand, though somehow his presence still provide solace. He gives your hand a reassuring squeeze, and you glance up at him.

“Plans for today?”

Kihyun smiles, glancing at you with a quirk of his brow. “Many, most surprises. Let’s start the day at that little corner cafe bookstore we like, though.”

You nod, as eagerly as you can manage. Typically, you love the cafe bookstore. Whenever you were with Kihyun, you could lose yourself in the confines of the warm atmosphere and the smell of old books and roasting grounds for hours on end. On a day as chilly as today, too, you could even appreciate the idea of the cafe bookstore. It had that homey feel to it that was perfect for this type of weather.

Yet with the approaching cold and the way it settled in the depths of your bones,  _ a warning _ , you could barely muster up any excitement to visit the cafe bookstore. It was  _ too _ autumn-themed for your liking.

The day progresses uneventfully, despite the chill. Kihyun still manages to fill you up with a warmth that touches your heart in the most sensitive of corners, laughter spilling from your lips with ease despite the trouble thoughts that linger at the back of your mind. You spend the day together eating, browsing and exploring new shops, and by the time evening has set and the sun lingers on the horizon at the end of the day—you’re back at your favorite park, walking amidst the couples and families there for seasonal celebration. Overhead, lights twinkle where they're strung from the lamp posts, and in the distance, live music softly floats on the air.

Kihyun gives your hand a squeeze, leading you. The winding path of the park begins to blur together the deeper you move. Before you know it, you’ve found the source of the music which had been floating through the park. Kihyun pauses, with you at his side, at the back of the chairs lined up before the little stage set up. The two of you stand there for a moment, listening in silence and admiring.

You’re aware of a fogginess settling over your mind the longer you listen to the soft tune. The way it wraps itself around you and Kihyun creates a lull, and a heaviness you’re familiar with but can’t quite explain tugs at your shoulders. You let out a sigh.

“Love,” Kihyun’s voice abruptly breaks the lull of the music, pushing through the fogginess slowly creeping over your mind.

“I know,” you mutter, begrudgingly.

Turning towards you, Kihyun lifts your hands. You blink, surprised, trying to push through the melancholy feeling that’s overtaken you. He places one of your hands on his shoulder, raising the other out to your side.

“Kihyun—?”

“Hmm?” He hums softly, winding his hand back around your waist and pulling you closer to him. You let out a small breath of surprise, closing your eye as his lips press softly against your temple when he lowers his head. “Dance with me,” he whispers, breath softly brushing against your ear.

You feel a knot build up in your throat, and close your eyes against the string that suddenly appears. Giving a short, curt nod, you follow Kihyun’s lead as the music engulfs the two of you. Gently, lovingly; he leads you. It’s nothing extravagant, just two people swaying, slowly twirling together, beneath the twinkling lights as the sunset pushes completely past the horizon, the last lights of the autumn golden hour lingering before all that’s left is the artificial lights and the light of dusk.

“I love you,” Kihyun murmurs, and you’re almost afraid to open your eyes. But the longer you keep them closed, the heavier they begin to feel.

You force yourself to open heavy lidded eyes, staring at Kihyun one last time. His expression is soft, brown eyes filled with nothing but love. The way the park lights strung up as decoration fall across his features, accentuating his laugh lines and smile, remind you of why he is  _ autumn _ . He looks warm; homely. Just staring into his eyes, you’re reminded of why you love him. Why you return to him every year; Kihyun is safe. He’s home.

“I’m sorry I was so stupid, this year.”

Kihyun shakes his head, pressing his forehead against yours as he slows the two of your steps. “You don’t have to be sorry for being scared, love.”

“I love you…”

With a smile, Kihyun’s eyes flutter closed and he leans toward you. Before you close your own eyes, you take in his face one last time; the way his lashes fall gently across his cheek and the laugh lines you love so much—even that one little peek of a line where his cheek dimple lies hidden. Swallowing past the knot in your throat, you close your eyes just as his lips touch yours. Plush, soft; comforting.

He kisses you tenderly, lips moving against yours with a soft urgency, as though he may swallow you whole. Knowing this is the last he’ll kiss you for seasons, again, trying to memorize the way your lips fit to his like a perfect puzzle piece, trying to drink in and memorize your taste— _ sweet summer _ , the warmest of days and the loudest of laughter. You taste like bubbly drinks that fizz when you open them and sweet fruits; smell like the scent of rain after it hits the dry earth. Kihyun breathes in one last time, feeling you slipping away, slowly; until all at once, beneath his touch—you disappear.

Briefly, Kihyun remembers a quote from a book he’d read somewhere,  _ “Autumn killed summer with the softest kiss.” _

When Kihyun opens his eyes, breaking apart from the kiss —you’re gone. And half of his heart, too, has gone with you. Kihyun blinks furiously, trying to rid himself of the sting burning at the back of his eyes. He glances off to his left, staring at the band playing and the crowd peacefully enjoying it; unaware of what had just happened.

Sighing, Kihyun buries his hands into his pockets, continuing along the path, back in the direction he had come before; a lone figure this time.


End file.
